Getting Potter In
by tlcplusp
Summary: Crouch Jrs perpective in chapters 16 &17 GOF. AU, perhaps mild lanugage


Author's Notes: Was Harry truly a Champion in the Triwizard Tournament? Crouch Jr. disguised as Alastor Moody is the one who put Harry's name in, and his father, under the control of Voldemort, is the one who said that Harry had to compete. Why should we believe either of them?

Disclaimer: I have taken J K Rowling's characters and settings and situations, and am playing with them, but she owns them, and I shall never try to convince anyone otherwise. I've also taken some dialogue from Dumbledore (page 270, American Hardback edition, GOF), and from Karkaroff and from 'Moody' (page 278, American Hardback edition, GOF). They are surrounded by quotation marks. Again, they belong to J K Rowling, not me.

Goblet of Fire 

' "Excellent!" Dumbledore said as the applause ended. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from—" '

Barty Crouch Jr. surreptitiously checked to see if anyone was watching him. They weren't, and Crouch considered again how useful Mad-Eye's magical eye truly was. He slid his wand from his right sleeve and pointed at the Goblet of Fire, casting a color-change charm on the flames so they turned red, as if it were going to expel another Champion's name. Dumbledore's speech stopped, as he and the rest of the hall stared at the Goblet.

Now was the hard part. Crouch silently undid the Disillusionment charm on the slip of parchment, which read 'Harry Potter, Hogwarts' in Potter's handwriting. He then Vanished it, and made it reappear in the middle of the goblet where it wouldn't burn, thus give it away. Crouch sailed it, towards Dumbledore, who seemed to reach out and catch it without realizing what he was doing.

As Dumbledore held out the slip to read it, Crouch murmured "Finite," almost inaudibly, and the flames returned to their original blue. He then stuffed his wand back inside his sleeve, checking once again to ensure no one had noticed his spell work. It appeared that he had not attracted any attention. Thank Merlin.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and read, "Harry Potter."

Every head in the Hall swiveled in Potter's direction. An agitated murmur swept the crowd as Potter sat still, a blank expression on his face. Well, no surprise there. He must be thinking he's hearing things, Crouch speculated.

He then gauged the reactions of the judges; they were the ones he had to fool. Dumbledore's back was turned to him, and magical eye or not, he couldn't see his expression. Crouch moved onto Karkaroff, Maxime, his father, and Bagman. All but his father looked shocked. His father's face lacked emotion. That could be problematic

McGonagall had risen from her chair, and joined Dumbledore. They now were conferring, too quietly for him to hear… That was not good. Dumbledore was the one who could do the most damage to the Dark Lord's plan, and unfortunately he was also the one Crouch had most trouble understanding. If only there was a way for him to be able to hear what they were saying, he might have a better idea of what Dumbledore would do! Dumbledore nodded at McGonagall, and called "Harry Potter! Harry! Up here, if you please!" Well, at least he hadn't caused a scene yet.

Crouch suddenly realized the boy had not moved from his seat. His know-it-all friend had to push Harry to his feet. He held back a sigh of exasperation. _This_ was the one said to be the Dark Lord's equal? It would be no easy feat to shepherd the simpleton through the three tasks of the tournament…Assuming of course that he had managed to fool everyone that Potter was eligible, that he was even required, to compete.

Crouch again surveyed the judges. Karkaroff still looked shocked, but now he looked indignant as well. Yes, that was what he expected, what he wanted. Karkaroff was ridiculously easy to predict. Hopefully he would build up his anger to almost a tantrum. That would look faked, and Crouch would play up Moody's suspicious nature and accuse Karkaroff of tampering with the Goblet. Crouch hid the smirk that was threatening to reside on his features. Looking anything but surprised and calculating could give him away.

He turned his head and contemplated Karkaroff openly for a few moments, in case Dumbledore was watching him out of the corner of his eyes. The real Moody would definitely have decided on at least one person to blame by this point, and Crouch couldn't afford to make any mistakes during this critical time period. He then swept his gaze farther down the table to Maxime. She looked outraged by this point, was gulping down wine in a very unladylike manner, and was tapping her foot under the table. It was only a matter of time before _she_ would begin complaining.

By this time, Potter had finally made his way into the chamber. Crouch let out a small breath in relief. Dumbledore would, at least, let him into the Champions' chamber. He then surveyed Bagman. Bagman, unsurprisingly, looked taken aback, but also, he seemed …pleased. _That_ was unexpected, and unwelcome. After all, if the Goblet of Fire was acting up, it should not please the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Had Bagman realized that something was not as it should have been for the last 'Champion?' He might have to Obliviate Bagman. Suddenly, he leaned towards Crouch, they exchanged a few words in low voices that he couldn't hear, then Bagman got up and went through the door Potter had left through. Moody decided that he was no real danger to the plan, and dismissed him.

He finally turned his attention to his father, who still had a blank expression on his face. Crouch was the other one he truly needed to be watchful of—He was probably the final word on whether or not Potter would compete. After all, he was the perfect example of a law abiding citizen, and he would know the rules of the Tournament forwards and backwards.

Hopefully his expressionless face didn't mean Wormtail's attempts at Imperiusing the man had failed. He had, theoretically, been Imperiused that very afternoon, though Crouch didn't trust Wormtail's spell casting. Had his attempts at mimicking the Goblet's affects been seen through? If his father had been fooled, or if he was still under control of the Imperious curse, then he would be forced to say Potter had to compete. But if not?

No, one of the two had to have worked. His master had too much riding on this to have it fall apart because of his father. And he could always Imperius Crouch himself. He pulled his wand out of his sleeve again, and cast the curse. 'Tell them Potter has to compete,' he instructed his father silently. Satisfied that Crouch would now fight, however subtly, to get Potter into the Tournament, Crouch put his wand away.

He looked towards Dumbledore again, and pulled out the hip flask containing the Polyjuice Potion. The end of his hour had to be approaching, and he certainly couldn't have his cover blown in front of Albus Dumbledore. He downed the vile concoction, just as Maxime reached the end of her patience. She stood, towering over everyone. Instantly Dumbledore strode towards the door, followed closely by McGonagall, his father, Karkaroff, Maxime, and for some odd reason, Snape.

Crouch's eyes narrowed in disgust. Severus Snape would _not_ under _any_ circumstances get in his way. He had caused the Dark Lord's return to be postponed once already. He would not be allowed to do so again. But before he could deal with Severus, he had to play his part. He got up slowly, and made his way over to the Goblet and inspected it, as if looking for clues. He even went so far as to run his wand over it a couple times, for all he knew one of his fellow teachers might have the duty of reporting on him to Dumbledore. He then stumped over to where Hagrid sat.

"Did Potter say anything about competing while he was with you this afternoon?"

Hagrid shook his head. "No, he didn'. An' I'll tell yeh, we discussed it a fair bit! Ah, I don' he done it, neither. He's got 'nough on his plate, he doesn' want more trouble."

"I agree. But now it looks like he's stuck with it. And who do you think would want Harry Potter in a situation where he can be killed accidentally?"

Hagrid looked at him sharply. "Yeh don' mean _Karkaroff?_"

Crouch looked at him grimly. "He's the only former Death Eater around here, isn't he? And you know as well as I do that he wants to make Dumbledore look like a fool, bring him down. Don't you think that getting his favorite student, the Boy Who Lived, at that, killed would do that?"

Hagrid sat back, worry on his face. Crouch left him at that. That was good, he'd responded the way Crouch wanted him to. It'd be easy to convince him to show Potter the dragons; he was clearly fond of the boy. Crouch then went to the door, and slowly pulled it open, just as Karkaroff was yelling, ' "—little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!" ' Oh, Karkaroff couldn't have done better if he was reading off a script, what a perfect time to enter the room!

He looked around the room with his magical eye. Yes, Dumbledore and McGonagall looked anxious, Karkaroff, Maxime, and their champions all looked angry. His father had done his job. Potter was in the Tournament, and everything was going according to plan! ' "Empty threat, Karkaroff. You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?" ' he growled, and was rewarded by Karkaroff balling his hands into fists.

He then played his part to the T, being so cryptic, blunt, and aggressive towards Karkaroff that Dumbledore felt the need to restrain his tongue. He fell silent immediately, Dumbledore's word was practically law to Alastor Moody. He smirked at Karkaroff. Crouch was sure that he had directed at the very least Potter's suspicions onto Karkaroff, and was reasonably sure that he had given Dumbledore no reason to be suspicious of him.

The first major hurdle of his task was complete. Potter was in the Tournament. Dumbledore did not suspect him. Now all he needed to do was guide the dimwit through three incredibly dangerous tasks, and deliver him to his Master.

Tomorrow, he would work on befriending the giant oaf, Hagrid.


End file.
